"I do. Bought it for the special purpose. And it's not to be taken from you. When you shy stones at hours already stated I shall be outside. You don't shy many. Three, or four, or five. One of the stones is made of lead. I supply you with them. Here they are." He produced the pellets. "I give you some paper that you'll keep in your pocket. Lead stone wrapped in white paper means that you're quite comfortable. Lead stone wrapped in blue paper means you want to be taken away. Things not as they ought to be. That provides for your safety. We'll see you're not hurt, Sophy, otherwise Maria. I shall understand signals. An idea. Can you whistle?" "Rather." "Another of your peculiarities. As a friendly patient you're to be allowed to whistle. At twelve o'clock and at four I shall be in this neighborhood. I hear you whistle. I see the stones you shy, _and_ the bit of lead wrapped in white paper. She's safe, I say to myself. Sophy, otherwise Maria, is quite comfortable with her weather eye open. Do you take all this in? Or shall I go over it again?" "I know it by 'eart," replied Sophy. "It's a reg'lar game, that's what it is." Here I thought it necessary to say a word. "Suppose no stones at all are thrown, Bob?" "In that case," said Bob, "without one minute's delay I ring the bell. I insist upon seeing my stepdaughter, Sophy, otherwise Maria. Leave it to me. I'll undertake that she comes to no harm. Time to get back to Nutford." We left Sheldon without having been observed, I a little doubtful now that the adventure was to be seriously commenced, Bob very confident, and Sophy very bright. Before we went to bed we had a great deal of conversation, and Sophy convinced us that she perfectly understood Bob's instructions; then the silver watch was delivered to her as a prospective gift in the event of her success, and we retired to rest. Bob and I had each brought a Gladstone bag down with us, and Bob gave me another instance of his thoughtfulness by producing from his a small handbag, furnished with certain necessaries for a girl of Sophy's age, which he had purchased in London. "You have really no fears for her, Bob?" I said as we undressed. He and I occupied a double-bedded room. "Not the least," replied Bob. "She's a gem. Of the first water. Wash and comb her regularly--dress her decently--teach her to read and write--give her two or three years to grow up in--and there's no telling what she may become. Much obliged for the introduction. Much obliged also for the business in hand." He said this with perfect sincerity. Bob Tucker was in his element. On the following morning he and Sophy set off for Tylney House. By Bob's advice I remained behind in Nutford. It would be best, he said, that Dr. Peterssen should not see me. I waited in great anxiety for his return, and at three o'clock in the afternoon he was with me again.